


Into the Thick of It

by PazithiGallifreya



Series: Halordin & Badari [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 05:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13451082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PazithiGallifreya/pseuds/PazithiGallifreya
Summary: Mordor is not exactly the honeymoon spot Badari had hoped for, but apparently Arda is not quite safe yet.





	Into the Thick of It

"What a dump.”

Badari grumbled as she hooked her axes back into her belt and snorted roughly, trying to expel the stench of the place with little success. There was a swamp like this just east of Ost Guruth, she remembered, and she wondered briefly if there was any connection between the two. Both had the same unsavory feeling, although she didn’t think even Garth Agarwen had achieved such levels of thorough corruption. Even the plants here looked sickly and malformed. The sulfuric mire in eastern Angmar might be a better comparison, although even the pervasive rotten-egg smell there had not been so objectionable, particularly after one’s sense of smell became utterly numb to it. Agarnaith’s pungent odor was a sickly-sweet miasma, though, a mixture of rotting vegetation and what could only be described as the putrefaction of living flesh. It was as if the land itself had grown gangrenous and the overall effect was utterly revolting. Badari swallowed hard against the bile rising up, determined not to actually vomit, despite her stomach’s insistence that it would improve matters. For all that, the place was clearly teeming with animal and insect life, however monstrous.

She looked up at Halordin, who stood beside her stiffly with a pinched look on his face. He knew more of herb-lore and beasts than she did and the diseased nature of this place was no doubt unsettling in a way that even the rest of Mordor’s corruption had not been. He was holding his lynx in his arms, clutching it like an anxious mother, no doubt wondering if the pestilence of the place could affect the animal. It occurred to Badari that it wasn’t a baseless worry - wolves and wild boar they’d seen had all been covered in festering sores and had patchy, thinning coats, and looked malnourished despite the abundant plant and insect life.

“Why don’t we let Verya stay with the Rangers here, hm? Should have brought the bog-lurker perhaps, seems like the sort of place that creature would favor…” Badari had never cared for the lurker, which, quite frankly, just gave her the creeps. Halordin rarely called upon it, but it seemed like it would fit in here, at least. She’d spied some of its wild cousins in the distance earlier, wading through the swamp on their stilt-like legs, the red phosphorescent glow of the water painting them a bloody hue.

Halordin continued to stare out over the mire that stretched before them, hemmed in by jagged hills and, beyond, a massive dark fortress. She thought he must have heard her speak, but his mind was clearly occupied elsewhere.

 _Why did I ever let Gandalf talk me into this?_  Badari thought. The hobbits had destroyed the ring, and Sauron with it, and the rest of Arda was busy mopping up the messes left behind. Halordin had insisted on joining her as she ventured into the dark lord’s former realm along with the Gondorian rangers. She’d wanted to spend some time with him now that the war was over, preferably somewhere pleasant. She should have told Gandalf to go pester someone else.

Badari reached up and hooked her fingers around Halordin’s elbow, pulling him toward the campfire where a company of Faramir’s rangers milled about nervously. His gaze remained fixed upon something in the distance, but he followed her pull without resistance. She nodded at the rangers, who acknowledged their arrival silently. Badari reached up and gently took hold of the lynx cat and lifted her from Halorin’s grasp. Verya stiffened, but did not fight her, and Badari silently thanked the Valar for small mercies. She set the cat down beside the campfire, hoping it would take the hint and stay.

Halordin’s unfocused gaze turned to her for a moment, and he smiled halfheartedly, trying to reassure her in his own quiet way that he was not so lost, really. He bent down to whisper something to the cat and stroke it. Verya chirped at him and butted her head against his hands.

Halordin was not apt to such dark moods, and Badari did not like it when he was thus. She could not blame him, though, really, given where they were. They’d already pieced together many troubling rumors in their path through this blighted land, and though Sauron was assuredly gone, as were his lieutenants, the nazgul, many of his lesser vassals were clearly unwilling to let their defeat at the black gate stand unchallenged. Many of them were rather pathetically convinced that he would return to them, and others simply wanted to take advantage of the sudden vacuum of power left in his wake, and had turned upon their former allies at the first opportunity, like jackals fighting over a carcass.

 _Lhaereth_. Even the name sounded nasty. The creature was cooking up something, that much was certain. Gandalf had given the task of finding out precisely what to herself and, by extension, Halordin, whom she’d been unable to convince to remain behind. She had half a mind to leave him with his cat at this encampment and insist upon striking out on her own. He was an elf gifted with the life of his people; she herself knew she would not live forever, and it seemed a smaller loss if her own life ended here than if his did. She’d probably have to tie him up to get him to remain, though. He was as stubborn as she was.

She did not give voice to such thoughts, as she knew it would only upset him. They were bonded, now, as husband and wife, since that night after the battle on the Pelennor. At the time it had seemed a worthy thing and she could not bring herself to regret their decision, but she worried for him, regardless.

They ought to talk about it, she thought. What would he do when her life was spent? She had not expected that they would both survive. Indeed, she had not really expected that Sauron would be defeated at all, and had assumed that their marriage would be not be a particularly long one. This was not a question she’d ever anticipated needing to ask. She would tell him, eventually, that he should sail West with the rest of his people, when she was gone. At least then he could have the company of his kinsmen and would not be alone. Whatever his own thoughts were, he had not shared them, and she did not have the heart to bring up the matter quite yet. 

She recalled the slightly startled look that Legolas had given them during their jaunt through Lhingris, though. The spiders’ den had been unpleasant enough, everything there had had far too many legs for Badari’s taste. The spiders' ichor left a sticky, foul substance over her axe blades that took ages to clean off, and she recalled sitting by Legolas’s campfire cursing under her breath as she scrubbed at her weapons with a rag that was no longer clean enough itself to do the job properly. She needed to oil the blades badly, flecks of rust were appearing already, despite the quality of the smithing (she’d made them herself, after all, and knew their worth).

They know one another on sight, she recalled. An elf could, apparently, look upon another elf and know instantly that they were bonded, and to whom. Whether that extended to the dwarf that said elf was bonded to, Badari was unsure, but if not, then Legolas must have done the arithmetic in his head and come up with one and one equaling two. He had diplomatically said nothing, although some sort of understanding, it seemed, had passed between the hunter and her husband.

Badari recalled Legolas spending his time with Gimli Gloinson, a distant cousin of hers, when she briefly stayed in Lothlorien. The bond they shared may or may not be the same that Badari shared with Halordin; she did not have the same instinctive perception that elves did for such things, but there was clearly something there. Perhaps Legolas understood better than another elf might. She was grateful, at least, that he did not disparage her husband for his choices; she would not savor having to defend her husband’s honor against him. They were meant to be comrades in this war, after all, and she did not care to mirror the vile behavior of their defeated enemies.

Badari rummaged in her pack until she found an old handkerchief that was, if not exactly clean, at least not utterly filthy, and tied the cloth over the lower half of her face. It would not keep the smell of this place out, but at the very least, it would keep the ubiquitous gnats and biting midges away from her nose and mouth. She pulled another piece of cloth out and reached around her kneeling husband’s head to do the same for him. “The day is growing old, love, we need to get moving. Verya will be here when we return.”

 _If_  we return, she added in her own thoughts. She’ll have to burn these stockings and trousers after this, no doubt, and the armor may or may not be salvageable. But whatever this Lhaereth the Stained had in store for the free peoples of Arda, they would face it together, and, hopefully, put an end to it.


End file.
